with her children. The truth may be degrading, but it must be told.
People, of course, who know the hollowness of the world, and the vanity
of human wealth and honour, and are accustomed to live with lords and
ladies, see through all that, just as clearly as any American republican
does; and care no more about walking down Pall-Mall with the Marquis of
Carabas, who can get them a place or a living, than with Mr. Two-shoes,
who can only borrow ten pounds of them; but Grace was a poor simple
West-country girl; and as such we must excuse her, if, curtseying to the
very ground, with tears of gratitude in her eyes, she took the ten-pound
note, saying to herself, "Thank the Good Lord! This will just pay
mother's account at the mill."

Likewise we must excuse her if she trembled a little, being a young
woman--though being also a lady, she lost no jot of self-possession--
when his lordship went on in as important a tone as he could--

"And--and I hear, Miss Harvey, that you have a great influence over
these children's parents."

"I am afraid some one has misinformed your lordship," said Grace, in a
low voice.

"Ah!" quoth Scoutbush, in a tone meant to be reassuring; "it is quite
proper in you to say so. What eyes she has! and what hair! and what
hands, too!" (This was, of course, spoken mentally.) "But we know
better; and we want you to speak to them, whenever you can, about
keeping their houses clean, and all that, in case the cholera should
come." And Scoutbush stopped. It was a quaint errand enough; and
besides, as he told Mellot frankly, "I could think of nothing but those
wonderful eyes of hers, and how like they were to La Signora's."